


Tied With a Bow

by Zrofyre



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bows, Dirty Talk, Fashion designer ben solo, Im a tease, Reylo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25352014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zrofyre/pseuds/Zrofyre
Summary: Rey is almost ready, except that Ben Solo wants to fix a few final details.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47
Collections: Space Cafe - Short and Sweet Shots





	Tied With a Bow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EquusGirl (EquusGirl0621)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EquusGirl0621/gifts).



> This is for the Space Cafe Porg-lets challenge: Tie
> 
> Han- THANK YOU for creating such a wonderful space and always being such a supportive friend!
> 
> P.s. I already broke the 500wc theme. Cuz I'm shameful like that ; )
> 
> Also - BOTH boards at beginning and end notes are by the amazing WinglessOne

Rey quivered as she attempted to hold perfectly still. Ben Solo, preeminent fashion designer, was exquisitely close to the swell of her buttocks.

His nimble fingers, so surprising considering their size - he could close a single fist around both her wrists, fussed and touched and adjusted. He tugged a seam here and flicked an imaginary speck there.

But the main focus of his intense regard was the delicate drapery of ribbon tied in a bow . . . Right above her tailbone.

He had rearranged it no less than five times. And each correction was a more involved affair.

The man's touch was soft and still a contrasting firm. He guided the lay of her pelvis verses pushing her or pressing her to stand a certain way. He cupped her hips and angled her behind, he rested the full breadth of his massive palm to the daringly bare expanse of her lower back.

His digits had been inside her dress and pressed against the naked flesh of her buttocks so often she was supremely thankful that her ass was her best . . . asset. He had calluses that scraped and scratched, a song to her desperate senses; when he'd created this dress for her he'd worn silk gloves to protect the fabric from his roughened hands.

Rey desperately wanted him to turn that palm over and cup the full curve of her cheek into that strong hand, slide his fingers deep into the heat between her legs, pump her full with a digit until he loosened her up enough to squeeze in two.

So. It might have been a very lusty, on her end, process of designing this dress. She'd maintained a professional mein, he'd been nothing but courteous and also inspired. The words emblazoned on the wall of his design room cried loudly across her mind: "The Human Body is the Best Work of Art."

"Ah, I might have it this time." The deep resonance of his voice shivered down the nape of her neck and seared a wave of heat along her spine.

"Ah. Mhmm. That's. That's good." Rey's parched throat stuck on the words, her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth.

"It has been such a pleasure to work with you," he's still standing behind her, hands on her hips and fingers pointing up her ribs as his thumbs give the slightest dig into the dimples on her derriere. He's framing the bow, she realizes while he finishes his commentary, "I've delighted in each meeting and I am not afraid to admit that I'd like to work with you again."

Rey's eyes widen. Ben Solo does exactly what he wants and ONLY what he wants, and he only sparingly grants repeat commissions.

"Oh. Oh my that would be . . . I've enjoyed our time together, and your art is astounding. And to be honest as well, it's been YOU that has made this all work out. You are the one taking a chance on ME, but I've never felt at a disadvantage, or as if we're in a hierarchy." Rey stumbles her words out in a rush, his presence a blaze of warmth against the plane of her back.

She notices that his thumbs are slowly brushing, the barest of movement. His fingertips have curled in so she can feel each individual press as a siren call to her desire.

"Rey, dearest," he leans in and ghosts the words past the careful hairstyle adorning her head, "I want so badly to untie this bow tonight. I want to spread you out across my conference table where you sat so attentively, a good girl at her lessons, while we worked together. I want to make you scream and gush and ruin this dress before I fuck you until neither of us can stand anymore."

"Oh god." Rey's legs quiver and falter beneath her but his hands are there, just his grip on her hips keeping her upright.

"After you go up on that stage tonight and accept your Best New Artist award, I will see you on the stage left exit. We'll go get dinner. We'll both be sure that you want this-"

"Ben-"

"-you will wait to give me an answer until after dinner. No rushing this decision. Then and only then will I touch you the way we both want."

She felt the brand of his lips between her shoulder blades, a lingering heat that imprinted on her senses. She wanted him to bite her there so that each time she wore a tank top this week the paparazzi would go wild in wonder.

"And Rey, I want so many dirty, vile things."

**Author's Note:**

> 


End file.
